


Fox Rain

by amyeonhaseyo



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fox Spirit! Junmyeon, Historical Inaccuracies, Idol! Chanyeol, Japanese Folklore, M/M, Modern Setting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:26:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23682355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyeonhaseyo/pseuds/amyeonhaseyo
Summary: After a scandal brands Chanyeol a disgrace, his career as a singer is put on hold and he is sent off to the countryside. Like a dream, a lazy sunshower leads him to the forest--where he meets a strange boy with impossibly sad eyes and hair with the colors of the sky.
Relationships: Kim Junmyeon | Suho/Park Chanyeol
Comments: 43
Kudos: 44





	1. Raven

**Author's Note:**

  * For [227_912](https://archiveofourown.org/users/227_912/gifts).



> Hello! Mae here :) this is my very first chaptered fic, also my very first commission! I have been nurturing this idea in my head for years, and I started writing it around 2018 but I put it on hold and haven’t typed a single word for it until now.  
> I am not a very good writer, but I hope that I will get better as I keep writing. This work is unbeta’ed, so forgive me if it’s clumsy at times. Thank you so much to Iiza for believing that my writing is good enough to be commissioned, ilysm TT.TT
> 
> You will notice that the chapter titles and introductions are songs. Yes, I am channeling every 2012 fic writers with this work hahaha. This may or may not be a ploy on my part to get you all hooked on Do As Infinity lmao I linked their songs in, and you can listen to them as you read but it’s not a necessity ^^
> 
> This work will feature fox spirits of the Japanese kind, the kitsune. I have to specify that because they are very much different from the Korean and Chinese ones. I mostly used [this site](https://www.tofugu.com/japan/kitsune-yokai-fox/) as my reference.
> 
> I hope I do justice to the characters of Junmyeon and Chanyeol here. Thank you so much for checking this out and I hope it will be a lovely read for you!

1

[Raven](https://open.spotify.com/track/3c2g1XMQrWrKpkOG3KXwY3)

いくつもの季節を過ごしてきた   
この体ひきずりまわすように   
古ぼけた時計を巻き戻せば   
悲しみの痛みはやわらぐのか 

I’ve lived through so many seasons,

It’s like I’m dragging my body around

If I were to turn back the worn-out clock,

Would it ease this sad pain?

The view from the window is an unending green.

It’s been quite sometime since they’ve officially entered the countryside.

Honestly, Chanyeol didn’t mind it. Didn’t hate being in the middle of nowhere. This was the kind of nothingness he’d always been searching for in the middle of the city, the kind of quietness he could only get a taste of if he went and sat by the Han River in the wee hours of the morning.

He presses the button to roll his window down, and he is greeted by a blast of fresh air.

“Yah, you’re wasting the airconditioning.”

“Just turn it off, hyung. The air’s nice.”

His manager gives him an eye roll through the rearview mirror before complying, muttering something about celebrities and their eccentricities.

Honestly, if it were someone else, Chanyeol would have fired them on the spot. “You’re lucky I like you hyung,” he says as much.

“Ha!” comes the scoff from the driver’s seat. “Lucky enough to make me drive 8 hours straight? I wish you’d stop liking me, you punk.”

Chanyeol grins and focuses back on the flashes of green outside his window. At least he had Heechul-hyung. This was something he had taken a habit of these days—being thankful of the _at leasts_. At least he wasn’t going to prison. At least his family stood by him. At least Sehun didn’t hate him. At least he still had a career to go back to once this all blew over.

Chanyeol has always been an optimistic—this was something people always noted about him, next to being compared to an over-enthusiastic puppy. And Chanyeol agreed, he liked looking at the positive side of things. But these days…these days it was a bit hard.

He spun his phone on his hand, itching to make the screen come to life, to look his name up and scroll through the results one by one. It was addictive, seeing his name mentioned by all sorts of people. It wasn’t a healthy habit, he knew. But it was one of the ways he used to evaluate himself. Did people like their song? What did his fans think of the album? What about that magazine cover? Was SC doing well? Were they loved?

Chanyeol sighs and throws the phone to the empty seat beside him. The google search would just yield the same results as the past week, anyway.

SC’S CHANYEOL INVOLVED IN A FIGHT

AN UNHEALTHY DRINKING HABIT? DOES CHANYEOL NEED HELP?

A DRUNK CHANYEOL CURSES AT AND ATTACKS MAN IN A CLUB

SC’S CHANYEOL BEATS UP A COLLEGE STUDENT

IT’S TRUE: VIDEO OF SC’S CHANYEOL BEATING UP A STUDENT SURFACES

The headlines got more and more ridiculous as the days passed by, and if Chanyeol did a search now, he was sure he’d be associated with drugs or probably even organized crime. Someone even accused him of kicking their dog on a twitter comment. It all made him nauseous.

It was like no one was even bothering to find out if anything was true. All they saw was a video of Chanyeol drinking with his friends, and they assumed that all the other lies were gospel.

Chanyeol hadn’t even been _that_ drunk. And even if he had been, he was the type of drunk that clung on to people and cried (a fact that he would admit to only if he were held at gunpoint). But hitting someone? It was unimaginable, for even in his worst all Chanyeol was partial to doing was crying in frustration.

His memory of that night was clear as day: he was celebrating his sister’s birthday with their friends. The night had been peaceful enough until an attention-seeking brat decided to make advances on a clearly uncomfortable Yoora. Chanyeol knew that Yoora liked to fight her battles by herself, but that had been one of the rare times that she needed her brother. She’d looked at Chanyeol with pleading eyes, and that was all it took for the singer to step in.

In his mind, it had just been a little brother protecting his sister from a malicious person; but, as everything usually were in the celebrity world, not everyone seemed to think the same. What others saw was an idol, rich and famous and a clear giant, mouthing off to a poor college student who was hardly half his size. It didn’t matter that there were dozens of witnesses, that there were a book’s worth of sworn statements in the singer’s defense—once news broke out that Chanyeol had been in a fight _in a bar_ , it was game over.

People believed what they wanted to believe. It was as simple as that.

The following days had been a nightmare. His phone rang nonstop. From worried relatives, to college friends thirsty for gossip, to journalists hungry for an interview, to his manager and even some of his non-celebrity friends… he let his phone ring endlessly until the battery ran out. His photoshoots were cancelled, new projects axed, brands with him as the model hired new ambassadors. But the straw that broke the camel’s back was the treatment towards SC.

SC was his life, his dream. It was his life’s work, his greatest achievement. Making music with his bestfriend Sehun, writing their own whimsical lyrics and experimenting with all sorts of instruments and musical styles until the wee hours of the morning—that was SC, that was Chanyeol’s everyday life. It was the one thing that made him smile as he woke up each day: knowing that he was actually living the dream he’d envisioned as a child. He could do without everything else, but taking his music away from him…

“It’s not the end of the world, you know that, right?”

Chanyeol focuses back on the rearview mirror and regards Heechul with a weary look.

“You’ve said that a dozen times already, hyung.”

“I know. Just making sure you drum it in your head. You tend to get discouraged easily, you know? It’s why you need people like me to keep reminding you that you’re great and awesome and all that.”

“Tch,” Chanyeol scoffs even as his cheeks are dusted pink. “I got it already.”

In truth, he didn’t believe it.

He found it hard to believe anything people told him these days.

People meant well, Chanyeol knew. But to tell him that the world wasn’t ending? It was easy for them to say. They weren’t the ones rendered helpless as years of hard work shattered to pieces before their eyes.

Junmyeon wakes up to another morning, another sunrise filtering through the gaps of the trees and landing on his eyes through the open doors. He scrunches his eyes at the light and he gets up, his body automatically going through the usual motions of starting the day.

He makes his bed, carefully folding the _futon_ and putting it away in the closet. He changes out of his sleeping clothes into his work robes. He folds up his sleeves, getting ready for the chores ahead.

With light footsteps that echo through the emptiness of the house, Junmyeon goes to take his rag. The _tatami_ flooring is spotless, but he wipes it anyway. He stands on all fours, rag held in place on the floor infront of him with his hands. He wipes from one end of the mat to the other, paying particular attention to wiping along the direction of the straw and not against it, just like Mother always reminded him. From his room to Mother’s and Father’s to the kitchen and the living room. They’re all clean from misuse. But _swish swish_ Junmyeon’s rag went, like a brush trying to paint colors on a canvas.

Once done, Junmyeon puts his cleaning tools away and grabs for the wooden pail by the kitchen sink. He has to go fetch his water for the day. His bare feet skip along the rock steps of the house, onto the soft grass below. The morning dew always made them a little damp, the soil slightly muddy. But the coolness of the ground was always a pleasant way to completely awaken oneself—if the previous cleaning had not been enough, that is. The chill travels from his toes to the rest of his body, making his tails wiggle in excitement.

The well is barely a dozen steps from the house, conveniently placed at the backyard. Junmyeon fetches his water, and does not dawdle. (He does look into the well to smile at and shout at his own reflection, but he thinks that it did not last long enough to count as dawdling.)

Some of the water sloshes out of the pail as he carries it, but he doesn’t mind. There were rags for that. With a small huff, he lifts the pail and places it beside the sink. He scoops some of the water out with his dipper and takes a few gulps. The refreshing coolness trickles down his throat, and he smiles at the sweetness of it.

He washes his face with more of the water, carefully cleaning his ears as well just like Mother had told him to. One always had to be presentable at mealtimes, she’d always say.

Junmyeon quickly prepares a couple of _onigiri_ , the rice a fruit of his own labor. It had been quite difficult, but somehow he had managed to maintain Father’s small rice farm by himself. It was nothing grand, barely half an acre. But it gave him enough wild rice to eat for the entire year, with seeds to plant the next year’s harvest, even.

There is no salt to flavor the rice with, nor seaweed to wrap the bottom with. But a _kitsune_ didn’t need those, Junmyeon thought resolutely. It has been almost a year since he’d last had a meal with any flavoring in it. If only he could sneak out of the forest and take some from the humans living nearby. He wouldn’t _steal_. Stealing was a deplorable act. No. He would leave the humans with payment of some sort, maybe some of his rice? Maybe a bit of blessing for the household, too.

But he was still afraid, still wary of the world outside of this forest. He wondered again how Baekhyun used to do it. He had always been fearless. Unlike Junmyeon, Baekhyun would make monthly trips to the human village, easily procuring spices, paints, books and treats for the both of them.

With a sigh, Junmyeon places his _onigiri_ on a small plate. He should be thankful for food, for any food at all. He places the plate on the table and he lowers himself on the floor, carefully folding his legs underneath the table.

He brings his hands together in a clap. “Thank you for the meal!”

His voice echoes through the walls, through the hollowness of the rooms. It is almost too loud, but it rings like a momentary spell, ripping through the thick silence that engulfed house.

The three other sides of the table are empty, but he can almost fool himself into thinking that he could see their faces smiling at him, talking animatedly as they slowly eat their breakfast. The table is full, there are bowls filled with Mother’s _miso_ soup, plates with grilled fish that Father caught the day before, there are even sweets—small treats that Junmyeon and Baekhyun acquired from the village beforehand.

The picture disappears as fast as it came, and there is only Junmyeon, with his lone plate of badly made rice balls. The lull comes back, the heavy emptiness with it.

He forces himself to smile as he bites down his tasteless _onigiri_.

He was alright, he assures himself.

He was alright.

A week after the so-called scandal took place, Chanyeol was at his apartment. The TV is on, and he is letting it run in the background, the noise providing him with the comfortable buzz to keep away the suffocating silence. He is busy going through his clothes—there’s a meeting for the title track of their upcoming album today. He is pushing his head through a hoodie when he hears it.

_“On our latest news, SM announces an indefinite hiatus for their idol duo SC.”_

Chanyeol paused, thinking he’d been hearing things. A hiatus? He just talked to the executives yesterday. They knew the truth, Chanyeol had told them. What the hell was this news anchor saying…

_“…following the uproar against member Park Chanyeol, all scheduled activities, along with the upcoming comeback of the duo have been put on hold.”_

Still unbelieving, Chanyeol had whipped his phone out to call his manager. He was met with Heechul’s frustrated grunt, telling him that he hadn’t been informed of this either. He was just as blindsided as he was. A call to Sehun was of the same tone. What on earth was going on?

He finally gathers the courage to call one of their executives. His call goes unanswered. He dials again. And again. Waits. And dials again.

It takes him twenty-four calls before he finally understood. They were not going to accept his calls today, nor anytime soon.

“They’re actually doing this,” Chanyeol gasps in disbelief.

His entertainment company was really throwing him under the bus.

It was then and only then that his knees buckled, and he let himself fall to the floor, ears ringing, chest bursting with sobs he couldn’t cry out because what about Sehun? He didn’t deserve to get caught up in this. What about SC? What about their plans, their promises to their fans?

What now?

_“We’re just minimizing our losses.”_ So they said.

_“It’s not that big of a deal! Think of it as a vacation, and you’ll be back. Good as new.”_ So they said.

_“Oppa shouldn’t have picked a fight like that…”_

_‘I’m a fan, but Chanyeol should not have been in a bar in the first place.”_

_“See this is why I don’t like idols. They always make themselves look perfect but they’re the most disgusting pieces of shxt.”_

Chanyeol thought of his life as this one big puzzle. He’d been working at it for so long, carefully choosing the pieces out, flipping them all in sorts of ways to make them fit perfectly. And just when the picture was coming together, someone yanks it out of his hands and hurls the pieces away. Now he has no idea where the pieces are, where to start looking.

He doesn’t even know if he wants to form the picture again anymore.

A familiar bungalow appears over the curve of the road and Chanyeol is forced out of his thoughts. Just the view of his grandmother’s house lessened the weight on his chest. The house is graying and weathered by time but still homey-looking as ever. From his window, Chanyeol can see that his favorite peach tree has grown into a giant. There are chickens running around, clucking at the car irritably. The roof of the house sags to one side, roof tiles seeming to hang on for dear life just like they did all those summers ago.

He can barely stop himself from bouncing out of the car as the familiar form of his grandmother comes out of the front door, clad in her favorite flowerprint work clothes and her hair much grayer than Chanyeol remembered. She sees the car approach and raises her hand in a wave.

Chanyeol feels tears gather in his eyes at the sight.

He was home.

Junmyeon straightens the sleeves of his _yukata_ as he checks his reflection on the pond’s surface. This leaf pattern _yukata_ was quite old, but it was the best he had. He could probably make it look new with some magic, but he had too little of it as it was. He shouldn’t waste magic like that.

Nevermind, he tells himself. Mother had sewn this _yukata_ herself, and even centuries later it still wore well. Junmyeon gives himself a final check and he nods in approval.

He had to look presentable as he went around the forest, after all.

He spares a glance at the pond, and the whitebeam trees, at the snowdrop flowers of the meadow. “I’m off!” he greets cheerfully. He keeps his smile on and he imagines their voices in his head. _Have a safe trip_ , they would tell him.

With purpose, he marches into the forest, earnestness putting a spring in his steps. He should do well again today. Tending to the forest came next on his daily tasks. It had been Father’s job, but since he was gone…

Junmyeon clears his throat and shakes his head. _No sad thoughts_ , Baekhyun had told him.

Anyway, it had fallen to Junmyeon to take care of the forest. There were stunted plants to coax out of the soil, hurting animals to heal, sagging trees to cheer up. It was the part of the day that Junmyeon looked forward to the most. Out in the forest, surrounded by everything at all sides—it was difficult to feel lonely.

The birds greeted him hello from their nests up on the trees, but a low whine to his side is what grabs Junmyeon’s attention. Standing not far from him is a brown wolf, a female one from what Junmyeon could feel of its energy. The wolf lets out another whine and cocks its head, as if asking Junmyeon to follow, and he does.

The wolf leads him through the forest, to a rock outcropping. He watches as the wolf slinks behind the rocks and disappears. Confused, Junmyeon follows the path the wolf had taken. The rocks had formed a small cave of sorts, neither deep nor large enough for Junmyeon to stand in, but apparently had provided enough shelter to a mother wolf and her pups.

He finds the wolf lying on the floor of the small cave, curled in protectively over her children. Junmyeon does not realize what the wolf wanted him for until he sees one of the puppies. It is lying right infront of the wolf’s face, small and delicate and unmoving. The wolf whines at Junmyeon again and nudges the puppy’s body with her snout.

Junmyeon crouches into the cave and reaches for the puppy. He places his hand over it, and he is instantly appraised of the pup’s condition.

“I’m sorry,” he tells the wolf sadly. “I can’t do anything for you. Your child is gone.”

The wolf lets out a howl at this, a sound of anger and grief that echoes through the forest. But such is the way nature. Both the wolf and Junmyeon know this.

The mother whines as Junmyeon bows and takes the puppy into his arms. He can at least do this for the wolf.

He buries the puppy a few steps away from the cave and mutters a few words of prayer to lord Inari. The puppy was an innocent, and would surely be reincarnated. Such a pure soul would definitely have a full life the next time around.

His next tasks prove to be less depressing: he manages to coax a tree stump to grow some sprouts, he heals an owl’s broken wing. Aside from those, the forest was quiet, its creatures in no further need of assistance from its resident fox spirit.

Junmyeon continues to walk through it, anyway, reaching out to feel the life energy of the forest in its entirety. This was his way of feeling comfort in his existence—an assurance that he was still there for a reason.

He talks to every single creature he meets, he even spares the trees a few greetings.

“How are you today?” he asks a dove.

It coos back at him in reply before flying off to another tree.

He waves at it in goodbye. At least someone tried to talk to him today.

Sometimes, however…Sometimes he wished the animals could actually talk back. He adored their sounds, their barks and chirps and whines and squeals. But… voices. Voices would be nice. Conversations, too… Laughter, too. Even angry shouts would be better than the suffocating silence…

He sighs and makes his way back home. There was nothing better for a bout of unhappiness than an afternoon with his favorite storybooks. Just the thought of it already made him feel better. What lack he had in actual conversations, he made up by reading stories written by all sorts of people. They weren’t there with him, but their words were. They talk to him, their elegant flow of narration lulling him into a bubble of comfort. He is now a hero of a myth, or a mermaid in the sea, or even a boy born out of a giant peach.

He reads on, until he is not himself anymore. Until he is not Junmyeon, not alone in a house with no one else in it, not trapped in a forest where there is no hope of companionship anywhere.


	2. Tangerine Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters done! i promise the next ones will be lighter :D

2

[Tangerine Dream](https://open.spotify.com/track/6yYAmwnG0mSfrvbmzNdiGq)

止まること 泣くこと   
そんなの いつでも 出来るね 

Stopping and crying

Such things can be done at any time

Dinner is a solemn but pleasant affair. The din of his grandmother’s favorite variety show, punctuated by occasional laughter from him and his grandmother, provides just the kind of noise that Chanyeol needed to detach himself from reality for a while.

The table was bursting with plates upon plates of Chanyeol’s favorite side dishes. It was classic grandma behavior, Chanyeol thought as he sighed in fond exasperation. Was his grandmother expecting twenty other people to eat with them?

Heechul couldn’t even stay for dinner, much to their dismay. He had to go back to Seoul immediately, as Sehun needed someone with him the next day for a photoshoot. 

Chanyeol could not find it in himself to feel bitter about that. In the midst of this stormy time, at least Sehun should survive. It reassured Chanyeol, knowing that even if SC were to disband, Sehun would still have something going for himself.

He should probably send the brat a text tonight, to wish him luck.

“Come help me wash the dishes,” his grandmother tells him once they’ve both finished eating.

Chanyeol follows obediently.

He helps her put the leftover food into containers, organizing them inside the fridge to eat in the following days. It takes longer than her expected, what with the large amount of food his grandmother made.

“ _Halmeoni_ , why did you cook so much?” he complains as he surveys the stacks of food containers. “It’ll take days to finish all of this.”

“It’s been three years since my only grandson came to visit,” his grandmother answers from her place at the sink. “Can’t this old lady splurge a little?” Her tone is half teasing, half admonishing.

Chanyeol scratches the back of his neck in embarrassment as he goes to stand beside her by the sink. He snatches the dishtowel from its hook and starts drying the small stack that his grandmother had finished rinsing.

“I didn’t mean to not visit,” he says apologetically. “It’s just been really busy…”

“You city folks are always busy,” she states, unimpressed. “It’s always work, work, work. You earn lots of money, but what then? You get sick and all that money goes to waste anyway…”

Chanyeol smiles despite himself. _Halmeoni_ was like a mother hen at times, endlessly clucking about the world. Her incessant talking never failed to amuse Chanyeol—something about her tone, maybe? Her tone was always sharp, but the words never actually pricked. Everything she said was said out of care, poorly disguised as a scolding.

“But _halmeoni_ , I got you that nice tv, didn’t I? It’s thanks to my city folk job that you get to watch Jo Insung so clearly,” Chanyeol teases.

“Ee _guh_ , you naughty boy.” A pinch at his side, and Chanyeol yelps. “Did you at least get me his autograph?”

“It’s not that easy,” the singer whines. “Even in the celebrity world, there are hierarchies, you know? _Sunbaenim_ is a god, I can’t just approach him so easily.”

“I even bragged to all the grandmothers yesterday,” the old lady laments. “What’s the use of a famous 4grandson when he can’t even get autographs for his grandmother?’

Chanyeol can only laugh at his grandmother’s antics, promising afterwards that he will put his ego at stake and beg for Jo Insung’s autograph if he had to.

The conversation lulls, and for a while there is only the sound of the plates clinking in the sink, the water gushing out from the faucet.

“Don’t apologize.”

Chanyeol blinks.

“Don’t apologize,” his grandmother repeats. “Not when you did not do anything wrong. Apologize for the bother you are causing, if you have to. But not for what they accuse you of, do you hear me? Never.”

Chanyeol can only nod.

“People will always be fickle. Today they love you, tomorrow they’ll throw stones at you. Don’t let the words of those faceless people get to you, understand?”

She hands him the last plate, and he wipes it dry. Inside, his chest feels like a storm. His nose itches, his eyes water but he refuses to cry. He bites at his lip and forces himself to hum in agreement.

He hangs the dishtowel back at its hook and moves to walk out of the kitchen, muttering an excuse of going to bed.

“Chanyeol-ah.”

Chanyeol pauses at the doorway. “Yes, halmeoni.”

“I’m proud of you for protecting your sister.”

He can feel the smile in her voice, and he loses the battle. He staggers out of the kitchen and into his room, carefully closing the door so his grandmother wouldn’t hear. He sits with his back on the door, his face buried between his knees as he finally lets himself cry.

Today marked the year after.

Junmyeon tried not to acknowledge it, tried to make his mind dismiss it. But what his mind could forget, his soul could not. And he feels his chest constrict in grief as soon as he opens his eyes that morning.

He changes out of his clothes, puts away his _futon_. Wipes the floor. Fetches his water and washes up. His body is running purely on instinct, on habit formed by hundreds of days of unchanging routine. But every single action feels more of a chore, a heavy burden that he’d rather not take up. He wants to go back to bed, to curl up in the darkness of his room as he wills the day away. But he’d promised Baekhyun. He’d promised he’ll keep going. He’d promised.

He sits by himself yet again at the table way too large for one, his plate of miserable rice balls the only thing to take up space in the empty expanse.

He regards the plate with ire, and a flash of crossness overtakes him. He snatches the plate and flings it to the wall in frustration.

He revels at the loud sound that it makes, slashing at the oppressive quiet. But it is gone as soon as it came, and Junmyeon is suffocating again. His mind clears, and he kneels before the mess of scattered rice and broken plate.

He gasps in horror at the sight, eyes instantly welling up as he picks up a broken piece. This had been one of Baekhyun’s favorite plates! How could he have been so careless? Baekhyun had been so proud of acquiring this. He would be so mad if he found out Junmyeon—

“I’m sorry,” Junmyeon sobs to nobody. “’I’m sorry, Hyun-ah. I didn’t mean to, I really didn’t…”

He knows Baekhyun could not hear. For there was no Baekhyun anymore. There hasn’t been one, for a year now.

Junmyeon takes the broken piece with him, hugging it to his chest as he staggers out of the house. He runs, his feet clumsily taking one step after another towards the only thing left of his family. The meadow comes into view, with its surrounding trees and the pond nearby.

The fox spirit lets himself fall to his knees, the grass cushioning his fall. His eyes fall on the white flowers surrounding him. He picks one, careful not to hurt the delicate flower too much as he curls up on himself, hugging the flower to his chest along with his broken plate.

Humans had the belief that fox rains took place because of fox weddings. It was slightly correct, but it was not exactly so. Fox spirits were magical creatures, deeply connected with nature. As such, any slight intention on their part could influence the things around them—in this case the weather.

It was not something conscious on their part, but somehow, when fox spirits felt a surge of emotions, the sky would feel with them. It would make its sun shine bright, but would make its clouds shyly shower rain at the same time. It was a peculiar thing, and was of no use whatsoever. But happen it did.

The most frequent occasion for fox rain was due to fox weddings: the love from the married couple added with the delight of the jubilant attendees, fox weddings were a bubbling cauldron of emotions that made for fox rains that lasted for hours.

But for the lone boy at the meadow, there was only anguish. There was only longing and sadness and overwhelming misery as he cried his heart out for the people he could no longer reach

The sky does not discriminate.

A fox spirit’s heart was bursting, and so the sky warmed its sun and gathered its clouds.

A fox rain tries to warm and soothe at the same time, like a warm hand with a damp cloth for the fever of emotions.

But a fox rain is not a hug, not a slew of comforting words, and definitely not the family that the boy so desperately wants back.

The morning had been sunny. The sky had been so clear, not a hint of rainy weather anywhere. So why the sudden downpour?

It wasn’t even _rain_ rain. It was somewhere between rain and a light shower, small raindrops taking their time as they danced down to the earth. Not big nor strong enough to completely drench, and yet drizzly enough to make everything considerably damp.

The sun kept shining, as if battling the rain. No, wait. It didn’t feel like a battle, Chanyeol thought. It was more like the sun was allowing the rain some spotlight, weakening its warm rays and dimming its light in order to make way for the shy drizzle. Chanyeol gapes at the fading rainbow in the sky soon as he steps out of his grandmother’s house. Haphazardly pulling on a hooded sweater, he regrets not bringing his phone with him to take a picture of the rare sight. He regards the drizzle with a wary eye, and hopes the hood will be enough—he didn’t feel like bringing an umbrella for his walk.

He doesn’t even know why he is going on a walk. He was generally opposed to venturing out of his grandmother’s house—which, though lacking an internet connection and only had a dozen channels on the tv, was the most familiar and comfortable place for him in this quaint little town. He didn’t like the nosy neighbors, the gawking townspeople who liked to stare at his golden white hair. They thought him to be the stereotypical city boy, rebellious and haughty and _scandalous_. Not all of them were like that, of course. His grandmother, for one, had taken one look at his hair and then chuckled softly. “I bet your mother had a small heart attack from this one,” she had said teasingly while reaching up to ruffle the blond locks with her endearingly wrinkled hand.

And then there was that kid he had met while buying groceries. He had looked up at Chanyeol’s tall figure, gasping adorably as his eyes fell upon Chanyeol’s hair. “ _Oppa_ is your hair magic?” she’d asked. Chanyeol may or may not have said that it was.

All in all, Chanyeol did not like going out. But today. Today was an exception. He had taken one glance from his window at the light shower outside, and his heart ached for some reason. For a moment it felt like his heart was too big for his chest, each beat slamming through him painfully. And then, just as suddenly as it came, the ache went away.

Dazed, he had stood up from his desk, putting down his phone and ambling out of his room and out of the house.

With no particular destination in mind, he stood at the porch and tried to remember the ache he had felt. It had wanted him to go somewhere. But where…?

 _The forest_ , he soon decides.

He stepped off the porch and strolled to the back of his grandmother’s house, where a small path leading to the dense woodland was. He had never taken this path before, had never been interested in it no matter how many times his grandmother had encouraged him to take a walk down through the forest. Which was why Chanyeol was confused as his feet seemed to make decisions for him, leading him through the thicket like he had been there several times before.

The forest wasn’t as dense as it had seemed. The trees were mostly tall and thin, with their leaves making a roof that was not quite thick enough to provide shelter from the soft rain. Nevertheless, they deflected the rain enough for Chanyeol to take off his hood.

He kept walking, admiring the scenes before him from time to time. The sunlight peeking from between the leaves, along with the thin layer of water that blanketed everything made him feel like he was in the middle of something ethereal.

Still being prodded by whatever weird energy his feet seem to have today, Chanyeol steps out of the path, walking aimlessly between the trees and bushes. He vaguely wonders where all his city senses had gone. He was supposed to be more careful than this. It could be dangerous. But he doesn’t stop walking. He couldn’t. He had to find it. But what was _it_?

He soon hears the sound of water flowing. His heart jumps at the sound, and he tries to catch his breath at the sudden excitement as he followed the sound with a brisk pace. The line of trees come to an abrupt stop as he came upon a clearing. Glancing around, he realizes that it had been the sound of a waterfall he was hearing.

It was nothing grand, only a few feet tall. The clear water swished over the rocks at the top and fell down gently to the rocks below with a giggling sound. The water flowed out into a lake—no, it was more of a pond. The fresh smell of earth and damp grass filled Chanyeol’s nostrils as he stepped closer to the pond, reminding him of childhood summers long gone by. The pond was mostly still. Its water was clear, and the light trickling from the heavens gave it a silvery tint. Below the water’s surface, he could see small fishes swim from rock to rock, some of them racing past each other as if playing a game. He was about to kneel beside the bank to reach his hand in, planning to tease the fishes a little bit, when a figure to his right catches his eye.

He slowly turns his head and sees a boy sitting on the grass a few steps away. The boy looked as otherworldly as everything in the place, with his porcelain-like skin and strange clothing. He was dressed in robes of some kind, his hand barely peeking out from the wide sapphire sleeve. It reminds Chanyeol of some Japanese shows he had watched as a child.

He almost smirks at the boy’s hair—it was a mix of white and blue that reminded him both of the sky and the clouds at the same time. The soft and lush tresses of pale turquoise were mesmerizing, and Chanyeol wonders where the boy had gotten his dye job. Was the boy from the city as well, forced to spend his summer vacation with his grandparents? He certainly looked like he was Chanyeol’s age. But Chanyeol quickly dismisses the thought. No city boy would dress up like this. Not outside of a cosplay.

The boy’s robes looked elegant but comfortable. The leaf designs on the trimmings are blurry, however, an evidence of having been worn down by time. The boy must like those robes, Chanyeol thinks, if he’s worn them so much like that.

A movement from behind the boy catches Chanyeol’s eye. There are white… _things_ …behind the boy. Was it a bush of some kind? It was white, shaped like a flame, the very top a delicate beryl—much like the boy’s hair.

The bush twitches and Chanyeol stifles a yelp.

Were those…

Tails?

He follows the shapes to their base, where they stopped right above the boy’s backside.

 _Yessir, definitely tails._ _Three of them, too._ Chanyeol gulps and considers hightailing it out of the forest right then. Now looking closely, he could see a pair of not-so-human ears atop the boy’s head. They were the wrong shape for a cat’s. A dog, maybe? But the tails didn’t look like a dog’s. The bushiness of it reminded Chanyeol of Nick Wilde.

He mentally slaps himself. It was a good thing no one was around, and that nobody could hear his thoughts about Zootopia. It’s not like it was a crime, liking an animated film that much. But the fact that he watches it at least once a month (and on particularly bad days) was something that the singer would rather keep to himself.

Back to boy, though… tales of the _gumiho_ goes through Chanyeol’s mind. That was what he was, right? A fox spirit. What was he supposed to do about it, though? The situation escalated from innocent trekking to a horror movie in an instant. Did the fox spirit lure him into the forest? Was it going to kill him? _Was it going to eat his liver?_

He keeps his eye on the creature as he raises a foot to take a step back. That was probably a mistake.

The boy’s hands are at his sides, holding on to the edge as his legs swung freely in and out of the water below. They swung alternately like clockwork, each kick launching a thin arc of water that splash back into the pond. The movement of his feet was cheery…and yet, for some reason, the sight pulls at Chanyeol’s heart. His foot freezes in midair, now unwilling to walk away.

This wasn’t… this wasn’t the action of someone looking to kill. Nothing about the boy betrayed malice of any kind. He was just…there. Playing with the water by himself. And somehow Chanyeol did not like that, did not like the way the small figure hunched in on himself.

He purses his lips with conviction and slowly makes his way towards the boy. He stops a few steps from the stranger, careful not to astonish him too much.

“Hello,” he softly greets.

The boy’s legs stop swinging as he turns his head and looks up at Chanyeol. If he was surprised, he hid it well. It is Chanyeol who breathes out a sharp gasp as he sees the stranger’s face for the first time. He had looked pretty from the side, but here, in full view… he was captivating. His long turquoise hair covered his forehead and stopped just above his deep set, golden brown eyes.

Chanyeol’s breath catches as he looks closer and sees that the boy’s eyes had a slight tinge of crimson. _He had been crying._ As if to confirm Chanyeol’s suspicion, a lone tear escapes the boy’s eye and trails slowly down his cheek. Chanyeol’s gaze falls on the boy’s small pink lips as the latter hesitantly greets back.

“Hello.” There is a betraying crack in his voice, but it is a soft sound that sends a wave of warmth through Chanyeol. This was strange. Everything about this was strange—the rain, the walk, the forest, the pond, _the boy_. And yet...it felt _right._

“May I…May I sit beside you?” the blond asks hesitantly.

The boy blinks at him for a moment, perhaps finding the situation as odd as Chanyeol did. He looks at Chanyeol with wide unblinking eyes, as if he expected him to disappear any second. But he soon gives a small smile and nods.

The action petrifies Chanyeol, making him feel as if his limbs are made of wood as he clumsily staggered forward. He makes sure to leave enough space between him and the boy before he takes off his shoes and socks, placing them at his side as he sits down. He lowers his feet to the water, and a slight shiver travels up his body as his toes touched the cool surface.

“It’s icy at first but after some time it will feel refreshing.” The blond almost jumps at the voice. He had momentarily forgotten about his companion. The boy spoke so softly, almost guardedly. Like he was afraid of breaking something.

Chanyeol nods and lets his feet sink below the water’s surface. The cold startles him, but just as the boy said, it soon becomes a welcome coolness against the sultry air.

Chanyeol turns to the boy. “’It feels nice,“ he confirms, beaming. The boy smiles in evident relief and resumes swinging his legs on the water. Chanyeol copies him, and they bask in the comfortable silence as they make ripples upon ripples on the pond’s surface. It was a pointless, almost juvenile act. But it was calming.

“My name is Chanyeol,” the blond says after some time. He does not look at the boy, choosing instead to fix his eyes on his feet.

“I’m Junmyeon.” The singer smiles to himself as he hears the reply, bracing himself before he spares the boy another glance.

And it was right then, at that moment, that the dull pain in Chanyeol’s chest stopped. And the tension on his shoulders disappeared, fading away along with the accumulated stress of his young adult life.

It was then that everything felt alright. The boy and the fox spirit were far from happy, but they could feel the promise of it— that moment, sitting by the pond beside each other as the gentle fox rain fell gently around them, weakening into an almost nonexistent shower until it was no more.


	3. Plans for Our Wings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve found myself reading up on so much for this fic lmao. I give full credit to Jennifer Yoo’s [article](https://www.scribd.com/document/46791713/Through-the-Eyes-of-the-Fox-Japan-s-Connections-with-Korea-through-Inari-Worship-and-the-Plausible-Influence-on-Shinto-Religion) for the story of Irogu and Inari and how Korea has strong ties with Inari worship. It’s interesting how much Asian countries overlap in terms of cultures. Reading this article made me realize that even simple things such as folklore can have very rich origins ^^
> 
> Note that this article only EXPLORES the possibility of Inari worship having originated in Korea. It’s not a cold, hard fact. :) I’m saying this just in case anyone gets offended by it hahaha
> 
> You will notice that Junmyeon always refers to Inari as “Lord Inari”. It is a gesture of reverence, and I had a very long internal conflict on whether I should use “lord” or just go with the Japanese honorific “-sama”. I chose “lord” instead. Somehow, using “Inari-sama” was awkward for me OTL
> 
> Anyway, here you are! This chapter has no angst, I promise! Happy reading~

3

[Plans for Our Wings](https://open.spotify.com/track/5ONcof8RdmIbhIhu9dlLhP)

この蒼い風に乗り あの雲のむこうまで  
  
飛んでいこうよ すべて忘れて

_Let's ride on this blue wind and fly beyond those clouds,_

_And forget about everything._

“How did you find this place?” Junmyeon asks Chanyeol afterwards. They had both grown tired of kicking their feet in the water and had pulled their legs up to sit instead, admiring the colors that were reflected on the pond’s surface. A gentle breeze would blow through the clearing from time to time, dispelling the weak heat from the afternoon sun.

Chanyeol shrugged. “I’m not sure, really. I just woke up from a nap and then I saw the rain outside…and then the rainbow. Did you see that, too? I don’t see rainbows that often and it was pretty.” He smiles at the memory, but it was quickly wiped off his face when he saw Junmyeon’s face darken. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” The turquoise-haired boy shakes his head and plasters on a reassuring smile. “So you followed the rainbow here?” he asks.

“No,” Chanyeol answered. “It was… I don’t know how to explain it. I guess you can say I was following the rain? No, wait that doesn’t make sense…” he tries to organize his thoughts, and to remember exactly what it was that compelled him to go into the forest in the first place. But he couldn’t come up with anything. All he could remember was the intense _longing_. “I don’t know,” he concludes weakly, giving up.

“…why is your hair white?”

Chanyeol blinks, totally not expecting the random question. He gives the Junmyeon a questioning look, just in case there was a hidden meaning in the question. But the boy merely continued to stare at the singer’s blond locks.

“I, uh, had it dyed.”

“Dyed? Like how people dye cloths?”

“Um… yeah?” Chanyeol’s brows furrow. “I think so?”

“Huh.” Junmyeon breathes. “So hair can be dyed now, too…” his voice trails off as his hand reaches out towards Chanyeol. His slender fingers stretch out to touch the snowy tresses, leaving tingles where his fingertips accidentally tap on the singer’s skin.

Chanyeol frowns slightly in confusion, but does not do anything to stop the boy. Was this… typical _gumiho_ behaviour?

“Why did you dye your hair?” Junmyeon inquires.

“Uhh…there wasn’t that much of a reason? I mean, I’ve dyed it before. It’s kind of expected with the line of work that I have …”

“It looks good on you.” Junmyeon compliments. He withdraws his hand, and a faint blush appears in Chanyeol’s cheeks. He distracts himself with the grass by his feet, pulling out some small blades to ease the tension that builds in his chest.

“Wha-what about you?” the blond finally speaks up, clearing his throat. “Why did you dye your hair?”

Junmyeon blinks. “I didn’t dye my hair.”

“Oh.”

This was ridiculous. What was he being so tongue-tied about? Where did that confident, self-assured Chanyeol go? That Chanyeol, who had total control over crowds upon crowds with his smooth talk?

“Um, so…” Chanyeol clears his throat in an attempt to dispel his awkwardness. “So your hair has always been turquoise?”

“Yes,” the other answers as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Huh.”

Junmyeon shifts so that he is completely facing Chanyeol. “You _do_ know that I am not human, right?”

“Hey, I did guess that already, I’ll have you know,” the singer declares indignantly. “It’s not nice to assume things, and who was I to assume that _gumiho_ do not dye their hair?”

Junmyeon stares at him for a moment before bursting into a fit of giggles.

Chimes, Chanyeol automatically thinks at the sound.

“I’m not a _gumiho._ ”

“B-but your ears,” Chanyeol stutters. “Your _tails._ ”

Junmyeon’s giggles peter out into a smile. “Ah, I suppose it _would_ make sense if I were a _gumiho_ , given that we are in Joseon, after all.”

“Joseon?”

“This country. Joseon.”

“Ah, right. People call it Korea now,” Chanyeol informs him. 

“O-oh.” Junmyeon’s cheeks flush in embarrassment. “I always forget…”

A moment passes. Two.

Junmyeon’s eyes get that faraway look, and Chanyeol wonders what memories the turquoise-haired boy was reliving. Whatever it was, Chanyeol didn’t like the way how the other’s shoulders slumped, the way his lips pulled downwards until his sweet smile was erased. He had to pull the other back from those sad memories, quick.

“You’re not gonna tell me you’re a vampire now, are you?” Chanyeol deadpans, effectively snapping Junmyeon out of his thoughts and snort in disbelief.

“Oh, if only I were someone that powerful,” Junmyeon laments. “But no, I’m not a vampire. I’ve never met one either, but I had an old friend who did. He said they weren’t all that interesting aside from their freakish strength and absolute loathing for sunlight.”

“Ugh, thank god. I thought I was gonna have to offer you my blood or something.”

This earns him another fit of giggles from the other boy. Chanyeol decides that he likes the sound.

“So…” Chanyeol starts, clearing his throat. “What _are_ you?”

Junmyeon looks him in the eye and smiles shyly. “In your language, I suppose you would call me a fox spirit. A _gumiho_ is the local term, but I am a _kitsune_. There is a difference.” He looks away, turning his gaze to the pond.

“But _kitsune,_ ” Chanyeol recognizes the term, having had to learn Japanese for SC promotions. He wasn’t excellent at it, but he could probably manage short conversations. “Those are creatures from Japan. You’re in Korea. Sorry, but that kind of doesn’t make sense.”

The fox spirit shakes his head. “It is alright, I understand the confusion,” he assures with a smile. “It is quite a long story, however. Do you want to hear it?”

“A story?” the singer repeats. He adjusts his legs so he is now more comfortably seated in a squat. “It’s a lazy afternoon and it’s not like I have somewhere else to be. I’m more than glad to hear it, Junmyeon.”

“Well…” Junmyeon shifts as well, so that he is slightly facing Chanyeol.

_This is the story of Inari._

_A long, long time ago, there was a man named Irogu._

_This Irogu was one of the many sons born from the clan of Hata, a powerful clan in Goryeo. He and a small part of their clan had travelled to the country of the rising sun, in the beginning only for trading but in time grew too fond of the country to leave._

_Irogu was an excellent marksman, with enough skill to be called the best in the land. He could hit any target, be it an animal of the forest or a man running in the battlefield._

_One day, Irogu decides on a whim to use rice cakes for archery practice. Unsurprisingly, he hits the target with only one shot of his arrows. But a strange thing happened. Once his arrow pierced the rice cake, it transformed into a bird. The bird, white as the clouds on a sunny day, flew away to a nearby mountain._

_It was such an unbelievable sight that Irogu had to follow the bird up the mountain. The bird flies far, until it reaches a clearing. The clearing shined golden under the sun, and looking closely, Irogu gasps in shock and dismay at himself._

_It is a field of rice, and it is then that Irogu realizes his mistake. He had disrespected rice, a blessing to him and his people, had desecrated the gift from heavens that fills him everyday. He falls to his kneels and begs for forgiveness towards the god he had offended, swearing that he shall never again insult their blessings in such a way._

_Irogu erects a shrine on the field to appease the god, and named the shrine Inari. And since then, the Hata clan handled rice with respect, never once belittling the grains from the gods. In return, the Hata clan was blessed, and they lived prosperously until the end of their lives._

Junmyeon’s voice had been so soft, his narrative a flowing river of gentleness on Chanyeol’s ears. It was magical enough to lull him into a daze, and when the flow of words ceased, the singer’s eyes fluttered open, as if awakening from a dream. _When did I close my eyes?_ he wonders. He notices that the fox spirit’s eyes were closed as well.

“That is the story of the god Inari,” Junmyeon informs him. The fox spirit opens his eyes. He notices Chanyeol’s stare, and he gives a shy smile. “Lord Inari is the god of many things, but mostly people pray to him for a good harvest of rice. Anyone blessed by Lord Inari enjoys protection and prosperity. _Kitsune_ are the messengers and servants of Lord Inari. We extend his blessings to humans by protecting them from evil. We nourish the land so that they may have bountiful harvests.

Lord Inari is such a powerful and generous god that when some of Irogu’s great-grandchildren went back to Goryeo—now called Joseon—they brought their worship with them. They built a temple for Lord Inari in Joseon, and passed on the faith to their own children and grandchildren.”

“Ah, that explains a lot,” Chanyeol muses. “So, you travelled all the way here?”

The fox spirit shakes his head. “I was born here,” he answers. “When Irogu’s descendants sailed back to Joseon, Lord Inari sent along many of his _kitsune_ , as a gift for their loyalty. My mother and father were among those.”

Chanyeol waits for the alarm bells to ring in his head. There weren’t any. Huh. Either his Loony Radar™ was out of commission, or Junmyeon was telling the truth. Chanyeol decides to go with the latter for the time being. Besides, he was definitely taller and larger than the guy. Even if Junmyeon was a _kitsune,_ surely Chanyeol’s large frame would be an advantage? _If_ he did turn out to be a nutcase, Chanyeol would at least be able to defend himself. Not that he could imagine himself hitting the fox spirit. Junmyeon looked too fragile, too soft, too…adorable.

 _Shut up,_ Chanyeol thinks, mentally slapping himself.

“I’m sorry,” Junmyeon mumbles. “Was I talking too much? Am I making you uncomfortable? I will leave you alone if I’m bothering you…”

“What? No no no, “Chanyeol fumbles, realizing that he had been silent for too long, and the other must have taken it as a sign of discomfort. “Really, it doesn’t bother me. I was just trying to process it, this is kind of a strange situation, you know? But I liked hearing your story, and I like talking to you.”

The other boy’s eyebrows furrow. “Are you sure? Because if not, I—“

“I’m sure,” Chanyeol reassures him. “Strange people are the most interesting to be with, anyway.”

“Ah… of course you would think I am strange,” Junmyeon winces.

“It’s not a bad thing!” the singer almost shouts as his hands shoot out infront of him, shaking agitatedly to dispel the misunderstanding. What the hell was wrong with him? Why did he have to keep on saying the wrong things. He was more eloquent than this, he was sure of it. “It’s not…”

Chanyeol takes a deep breath and collects his thoughts. “What I’m trying to say is, I like it when I find someone who’s a little strange. Not all strange people are good people of course. But they fascinate me.”

“Really?” the fox spirit still seems unsure.

“Really!” the singer proclaims. “God, if you only know the kind of friends that I keep… absolute oddballs, the lot of them.” Chanyeol leans forward and lowers his voice into a conspirational whisper. “I have this friend who thinks he’s a genius artist but all of his drawings look like an infant’s scribbles.”

Junmyeon twitters. “Do not be so hard on him. Maybe his art is just not the kind that you like.”

“Oh god, I hope you never meet him,” Chanyeol shudders. “He’ll latch on to you once he hears those words and go on a monologue about people ‘not getting his style’. Who knows, he might even sign you up into his fanclub. He has a total of three members so far—his mother, his father, and me, his unlucky childhood friend.”

Junmyeon asks as he tilts his head in confusion. “Fanclub? What is that?”

“It’s a group people join when they are all fans of someone, or something.”

“Fans?”

“Admirers, I guess?” Chanyeol scratches his head. “Like when people love a particular book, they are called fans of that certain book. Or if they all love a certain singer, artist, or whatever.”

“And what do these fanclubs do?”

“Well… they support whoever or whatever they are a fan of, basically. If it’s a singer, they go to that singer’s concerts, they buy anything that is related to that singer. Sometimes, if they can, they even give gifts to that singer.”

“Oh!” Junmyeon claps his hands together in fascination. “That sounds like serving a god, then. Do they pray to that singer as well?”

That elicits a laugh from the blond. “I suppose it can be like worshipping a god,” he concurs. “But no, fans don’t pray to whoever they are a fan of. They just love them, I guess?”

“Ah.” The fox spirit looks sheepish. “There is a lot I do not know about the present world.”

“I was just about to ask you about that, actually,” Chanyeol says. “How do you know about humans form before, but not about the humans of now?”

Junmyeon hesitates before replying. “My family and I used to interact with humans hundreds of years ago,” he starts. “We used to have a shrine. Humans would come there and pray to our Lord Inari, sometimes they prayed to us as well. Sometimes they gave offerings, too. But they stopped coming, so my family came to live in this forest…” his voice trails off as he raises his head, shifting his gaze to the trees around them before looking at Chanyeol and giving him a brief smile.

It must have been a much-abridged version of his story, but Chanyeol felt sad for the fox spirit, anyway. And he caught how Junmyeon seemed to talk about his family in the past tense. That must mean…

“My family is gone, and I am the only one left now,” the fox spirit says, confirming Chanyeol’s thoughts. “It takes a lot of energy for me to leave this forest even in brief periods, and I am not very brave either so I have not ventured from this forest for a long time.”

Not knowing how to react, Chanyeol glances back at the pond before them. The light reflected from the sky has changed into a muted orange-gold. A cool breeze blows by, gently shaking leaves off the trees surrounding them, and giving Chanyeol a slight shiver.

“But then,” he mutters as he twiddles with his thumbs. “Doesn’t it get lonely?”

It’s another one of those sad smiles that he receives. “It is all right,” Junmyeon assures him. “I am quite used to being by myself.”

Chanyeol would have believed him, if it weren’t for the way that Junmyeon’s arms curled over his own shoulders protectively. The fox spirit was not happy, not even close. And Chanyeol did not like that.

Chanyeol shoots up to his feet. “Say, you will be here again tomorrow, right?” he confirms.

“Well… yes, I suppose,” Junmyeon responds hesitantly. “Why do you ask?”

“Coz I’ll come back, of course! And I’m going to bring stuff for you.”

Junmyeon’s heart soars. Chanyeol’s excitement was contagious. But he catches himself. He swallows his grin and offers another small smile in its place. “Is that so?”

He watches as the human puts his socks back on, along with his strange shoes. “My grandmother will probably take me with her to town in the morning, so I won’t be able to come until afternoon,” he tells Junmyeon. “But I’ll try to come as early as I can. Be sure to be here, okay?”

The fox spirit nods placidly. “I will wait for you, then.”

Chanyeol smiles as he straightens up. “I’ll get going now, Junmyeon. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Junmyoen waves him goodbye and tries to keep the smile on his face, because the human keeps turning back to him as he was walking away, as if confirming that Junmyeon was still there. Once he is out of his view, Junmyeon brings his hand down with a sigh.

There was little chance that Chanyeol would come back. This was nothing new. Humans who found their way into this forest hardly ever saw Junmyeon, and the rare ones that did would always make the same promise of coming back. They never did, because they would forget about Junmyeon once they woke up in the morning. Or even if they managed to remember him and return to the meadow, they somehow could not see Junmyeon anymore. Perhaps the magic of the forest shifted at times, allowing a temporary connection between himself and the humans? Junmyeon was not sure.

But he has learned. He has learned to be thankful for small, cheery events that disturbed his monotonous existence. Today had been dreary day, but it ended so nicely. He had been able to converse with someone for the first time in a long time. He’d even laughed. That was enough.

He hears some jovial chirps from the treetops. “I know,” he whispers in agreement. “I really liked him, too.”

With a smile, he murmurs a quick prayer of blessing for the tall human.

“Yeol-ah, where have you been?”

It’s almost dark when Chanyeol gets home, and he is greeted by his grandmother as he is hanging his damp hoodie on the coat rack.

“I just went for a quick walk in the forest, _halmeoni._ ”

“My stubborn city brat finally caved in?” the old woman asks teasingly. “And how was it?”

Chanyeol smiles at the memory of his trancelike encounter. “It was very nice,” he answers sincerely. “And I will definitely be going back.”

That night, his dreams are filled with chime-like laughter from a boy with the colors of the sky.


	4. Paradise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who else is a mourning military wife here? Lmao  
> I spent the last couple of weeks being miserable. Ahh, Junmyeon-ah. You’re doing ok, right? Even if you’re a dumbass who went to the wrong military camp on your first day of enlistment, you’re doing ok right??!!  
> Anyway, I loved writing this chapter :D it had me smiling so I hope it gives you a bit of joy as well. And I don’t know if you guys even played with marbles as a kid, but [this](https://www.google.com/search?q=glass+marbles&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwj43f3387bpAhXIAYgKHSyZDHYQ_AUoAXoECA0QAw&biw=1366&bih=657) is what they look like lol
> 
> Also, do you know snakes and ladders??! God, I used to play that all the time. Imagine my surprise when I’m reading up on it for a fic, decades later as an adult, only to find out how complicated its meaning actually is? Read [here](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Snakes_and_Ladders) if you wanna know more :)))
> 
> I also cannot find a direct translation for engawa hahaha, but this [this](https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&url=https%3A%2F%2Farchiscapes.wordpress.com%2F2015%2F01%2F15%2Fjapanese-traditional-engawa-space%2F&psig=AOvVaw1PNFtMc6N5cZkdYZKZsltE&ust=1589668107457000&source=images&cd=vfe&ved=0CAIQjRxqFwoTCMjz77r1tukCFQAAAAAdAAAAABAD) is what it looks like
> 
> Hope y’all staying healthy and happy in these ‘unprecedented times’ kkkkk

4

[Paradise](https://open.spotify.com/track/6l98U1oBbbD2miRel0jAVY?si=TB8unH-iS3-2sqJmPQFnWg)

この限りある時間の中で  
まだ見ぬ楽園目指して  
どこまでだって僕等は  
歩いてゆこう

_In the limited time we have,_

_We'll look for an undiscovered paradise._

_No matter how far it is,_

_Let's walk on.._

“Ah, _harabeoji_ , you can’t just do that!” Chanyeol yelps. “That’s not fair!”

“All is fair in love and go-stop,” Chulmin crows. “Take _that_!”

The old man throws his last card down the pile, effectively ending the game.

“I was so close this time too,” the singer groans.

“It’s what you get for being greedy!” Chulmin barks as he gathers the chips. “You should have just gone with ‘stop’ when you had the chance.”

The singer puffs his cheeks. “You guys keep ganging up against me,” he says with a pout.

“We’re all tired of each other’s ugly mugs, that’s why,” says Insook to his right. “And what better target than a visiting brat?”

“But this brat is so handsome!” A hand reaches out and ruffles Chanyeol’s hair. “Aigoo, if only I were younger…”

“Eh, Miran- _halmeoni_ doesn’t need to be young. You’re so pretty as you are right now!”

This earns Chanyeol a cackle of delight from the old woman, along with a slap to his thighs that he had to pretend didn’t hurt. The singer finds himself grinning, feeding off of the energy from this small group of old people. He was completely in his element here—he loved crowds, loved the attention, loved how easily a few saucy words from him can make them flustered and feel special. He liked that a lot, when people smiled because of him. It made him feel full, made him feel useful. Nothing felt better than the thought that somebody was smiling, laughing, or even felt a little less lonely because of him.

“Park Chanyeol!” Jeongja barks as she enters the recreational room. “I brought you here to help with the fair, what are you doing playing with these stiffs!”

“ _Halmeoni,_ ” Chanyeol squeaks.

“Aw, give him a break you old bat,” Chulmin speaks up. “No one wants to blabber on about that when it’s this hot.”

“Our earnings from the fair are supposed to pay for an air conditioner, you rotting corpse,”Jeongja spats. “An air conditioner that this town hall wouldn’t need if you and Sugeun hadn’t broken the first one.”

“It smelled like it was burning so we poured water on it,” the old man says defensively. “Who knew that the darned thing didn’t like water!”

Chanyeol chuckles from the sidelines. Watching his grandmother and everyone else was more entertaining than television. Something about old people cursing always made him laugh, the offensive language belted out with scratchy voices—it tickled his ears and made his stomach hurt from holding in most of his giggles.

“Alright, alright enough of that. Come have some _sikhye_ ,” Insook placates as she puts down a tray on the table. She must have gone off to the kitchen to get the drinks.

Like magic, the shouting dies down and everyone shuffles to the table. Chulmin takes a big gulp out of his glass and sighs appreciatively.

“What I’m saying is,” he says. “It’s a fair. Food stalls, games, maybe some cheap clothes too. Why make it complicated?”

“Because we’ve been doing that for years and it has never been successful,” Jeongja answers as she takes her own sip. “We never sell enough.”

“People just are not coming,” Miran sighs. “Our village is too small and probably too far away for them to bother.”

Chanyeol listens to the elders intently, mulling over their concerns as he cools himself with the refreshing rice punch. A thought comes to him.

“Um,” he clears his throat while raising his hand like he is in a class. Five faces turn to him. “Have you tried advertising?”

“Of course we have,” Jeongja answers with a dismissive wave of her hand. “We got trucks runnin’ to the nearby towns for a whole week before we even open our two-day fair.”

“Not that, _halmeoni._ I meant like, online? Maybe use SNS? That way, even people from far away can know about it.”

“Online? SNS? What is that?”

The next hour is spent with Chanyeol trying to explain how the internet works—which proved to be much more difficult than he’d imagined. He should have known, most people in the village still used landline telephones, after all. Even the cellphones that the elders had with them right then were all flip phones with no internet at all.

The impromptu internet class is cut short with the arrival of Im Chunhwa, the president of the Women’s Union.

“Chanyeol-ah, you’ll need a whole week to teach these old-timers,” she says with a chuckle. “And even then, you’ll only be able to teach them what a website means. Why not you and me work on that online advertising thing along with the other young’uns?”

The singer agrees, and a collective sigh of relief from the elders beckons laughter from his lips. “What is this,” he asks incredulously. “Did you hate my lesson that much?”

“It’s a good thing you’re a celebrity,” Chulmin deadpans. “You’d have a whole class of flunkers if you’d gone into teaching.”

“ _Harabeoji!”_ Chanyeol whines with a laugh.

“I hate to say it but he’s right,” Miran says apologetically. “It’s alright, Chanyeollie. At least you’re pretty and them high-schoolers love your songs.”

“Ah! That reminds me,” Insook muses. “You used to play the piano for us before.”

Chanyeol freezes.

Insook nods her head towards the town hall’s cloth-covered piano, sitting by the far corner of the room “That old thing’s been sitting lonely for a long time now. Care to play some old tunes for this hag?”

The singer furtively glances at the piano before looking down at his lap. “I’m sorry _halmeoni_ ,” he says in a small voice. “I’m out of practice. I haven’t played in so long, I’ve probably forgotten how to.” He adds a laugh at the end, making it sound trivial.

Jeongja frowns at that statement, and she knew Chanyeol could feel it. But the boy wouldn’t meet her gaze. She doesn’t like how he curls in on himself. The others don’t seem to miss it either, with how the mood of the room goes down.

“O-oh! Is that so. That’s all right, that’s all right!” Insook assures in an overly cheerful tone. “Don’t worry about it. At least you’re not as bad as Chulmin who forgets his daughter’s name every week.”

“Yah!” the grandfather barks and the rooms erupts in laughter, the momentary tension dispelled.

Chanyeol stands up from his spot on the floor after the titters die down. “I’m sorry I have to cut this short, _halmeonideul_ and _harabeoji_ ,” he apologizes. “But I have to go now. I’ll keep dropping by for the fair, though. Oh, and also for the _sikhye!_ Insook- _halmeoni_ makes the best _sikhye_ in the country.”

He leaves, but not before leaving a compliment for everyone in the room, save for his own grandmother. He makes sure to leave only after flooding the elders with affection, and after the mood of the room is thoroughly brightened. It wouldn’t do for an idol to leave a room gloomy now, would it?

Jeongja does not say anything to him. She was letting it go this time, but her eyes tell Chanyeol that he should expect to be confronted about it sometime soon.

He finally steps out, and he leans on the door after closing it behind him. His eyes flutter close with a tired sigh. He should really work on masking his emotions better.

With the silence, his mind conjures the image of a lone figure by a pond.

Chanyeol smiles. At least his next destination won’t be as exhausting.

Chanyeol’s room is a mess.

He’s searched his shelves, his closet—throwing out its contents as he tried to look for things to bring Junmyeon.

But what do you even bring a _kitsune_? Surely he wasn’t interested in clothes? That comprised more than half of what the singer had in his possession currently. Chanyeol even briefly entertained the idea of showing the fox spirit his phone, but he soon shook his head. He’d had enough of teaching about modern technology for the day. Besides, did Junmyeon even know about telephones? He was probably even more outdated than the elders of the village…

Chanyeol purses his lips as he looks around his room once more. He wanted something that would cheer Junmyeon up. But all Chanyeol seemed to have were clothes and shoes and gadgets. He runs his hands through his hair in frustration, and his eyes fall on his bed.

He drops to his knees and reaches for something underneath the bed, his hands tapping on dust. His fingers brush against a familiar shape.

“Ah-hah!”

He shouts in delight and pulls the box from the dark recesses of the bed. Out comes a large carton box. It had been a container for oranges that young Chanyeol had appropriated for his own use, calling it his very own treasure box that no grownup was allowed to touch.

Chanyeol excitedly opens the lid, not minding the cloud of dust that the motion produces. He sneezes twice, but he can’t be bothered to find a napkin for his snot. He felt like he was seven again, faced with all the goodies and trinkets from his childhood. There are marbles, comic books, chopped up figures, rocks and playing cards—so much junk that he had thought of as treasure as a child.

The singer grins as he closes the box. This was it, this was what he could bring to Junmyeon!

He hastily closes the box and springs up from the floor. He makes his way to the door, momentarily considering putting the box down so he could twist the doorknob, when the door opens and reveals his grandmother.

“Oh!” Chanyeol yelps. “Thanks for opening it, _halmeoni_!” He sidesteps her and goes out the door, much to the old woman’s surprise.

“Chanyeol-ah, where on earth are you going?”

“To the forest!” the grandson shouts without looking back.

Jeongja wonders why Chanyeol had that old box with him and deliberates asking him about it. She shakes her head and dismisses it with a shrug. “Kids are so strange these days,” she sighs as she closes the door with a fond smile.

Junmyeon pulls at the grass by his feet restlessly.

He’s tried to distract himself all day, busying himself with his chores so as to not let his mind wander to the thoughts of the white-haired boy he’d met the day before. He shouldn’t get his hopes up, he knew that. But still…

He leans over to poke his finger through the pond’s surface. Not even the water can take away his agitation, it seems. With a sigh, he leans backwards. The sun was still up, but its rays were barely even warm now. The day was almost over. Maybe he should—

“Junmyeon!”

The fox spirit jumps at the noise, his tails shoot straight up in fright and his ears twitch frantically, looking for the source of the sound. A figure emerges from the thin border of the trees and Junmyeon’s heart thunders in his chest at the familiar sight of Chanyeol.

The blond makes his way towards him, face stretched in an easy smile, eyes shining with enthusiasm.

“I _knew_ I didn’t dream you up,” he exults as he arrives at Junmyeon’s side. “I mean, I thought I did, coz you know, who the hell meets _kitsune_ in Korea? But it was too strange to be a dream, felt too real and all that? I was convincing myself all the way here that I wasn’t crazy and that you were real and—“ The singer stops rambling after receiving no response from his listener. “Something the matter?”

“Y-you’re here,” the fox spirit whispers in awe.

Chanyeol smiles in amusement. “Should I not be?”

“No—Yes! I mean… You know who I am?” Junmyeon looks straight into the singer’s eyes searchingly. “You remember my name?”

“I just called you that!” Chanyeol laughs this time. “Junmyeon. That’s your name.”

The _kitsune_ ’s lips tremble and Chanyeol’s eyes widen in alarm.

“What’s wrong?” he asks worriedly.

“People who leave the forest never remember,” Junmyeon says in a small voice as he looks down at his feet. “Everyone forgets about me.”

The singer’s heart positively drops at the confession.

“This forest must have some sort of enchantment in it,” the _kitsune_ continues. “But everyone who happen to meet me will always forget about me once they leave…”

“Well, I didn’t.”

Chanyeol steps forward. He wants to use his hand to raise the fox spirit’s head, or even thread his fingers with the other. He wants to touch, to comfort. Chanyeol has always been affectionate with everyone, his language of care spoken through touch. But he doesn’t know for sure if the boy would be comfortable with those kinds of touches. He chooses to bring a hand to the _kitsune_ ’s shoulder instead.

“Junmyeon. Hey.” The fox spirit raises his head, eyes locking with Chanyeol’s comforting ones. “I remember you. And I told you yesterday I’d come back. You’re my friend now, see? I don’t forget my friends.”

Junmyeon’s eyes fill with water, but he is smiling. He brings a hand to touch the hem of Chanyeol’s shirt, rubbing the cloth against his fingers as if to convince himself that the boy standing before him was indeed solid.

“Alright,” he nods. “Alright.”

_“Rain!” the singer yelps, grabbing hold of his box with one hand and Junmyeon’s wrist with the other. He leads them to a nearby tree, using his tall body as an umbrella and protecting the box as best as he can. It wouldn’t do for it to get wet—it had too many things in it for Chanyeol to gather one by one if the box tore apart._

_“Where did this rain even come from?” he wonders aloud._

_The fox spirit knows, but he is too embarrassed to admit it._

_Chanyeol peers at the sky, instantly noting the sunshine. “Look, Junmyeon,” he says excitedly. “It’s a sun shower! It was like this yesterday too, I wonder if it’s common around here…”_

_“We call it a fox rain,” Junmyeon whispers._

_“Did you say something?” Chanyeol turns to look at the fox spirit instead._

_“N-no…”_

_The singer looks up at the sky again, evidently enjoying the sight._

_Junmyeon’s ears momentarily flatten against his head. Maybe he can tell Chanyeol about fox rains some other time…_

“This has everything I liked as a kid,” Chanyeol tells Junmyeon, opening the flaps of his box.

The rain has stopped, and the pair had made their way to the clearing beside the pond. The ground is damp, but neither of them minded. They are seated infront of each other, with Chanyeol’s box in between them.

The fox spirit nods, and two heads peer into the opening.

Chanyeol winces inwardly at the sight that greets them. It didn’t seem as remarkable as it did when he looked at it in his room—right now his so-called treasure box looked like some random person’s trash. He glances nervously at Junmyeon, fearing that the _kitsune_ would be unimpressed.

Instead he is rewarded with the sight of the fox spirit lowering his head into the box, ears twitching now and then with interest. A small hand cautiously reaches out and paws at the items gingerly. The _kitsune_ ’s head also bobbed at each item momentarily, before moving on to the next.

Chanyeol’s eyes widened. Was he… _smelling_ them?

The singer almost giggles at the adorable act, but he holds it in, fearing that Junmyeon would think Chanyeol was making fun of him.

Junmyeon lets out a gasp. “Something just sparkled!” He looks up from the box, eyes widened in wonder.

“Hmm? Oh, I think I know what that is.” Chanyeol reaches into the box, hand blindly searching. With a triumphant cry, he pulls out a small bag—more of a net, really—full of colorful, shiny glass marbles. They catch on the sun’s light, and seemingly burst into a swarm of sparkles.

It should not have been possible, but Junmyeon’s eyes widen even further, his mouth left agape in amazement. “What are they?” he breathes.

“They’re called marbles.”

“Marbles,” Junmyeon tries out. “Are they some kind of gems?”

The singer laughs. “Oh no, no. They’re just cheap things,” he says. “They’re made of glass, I think?”

But that doesn’t seem to lessen the _kitsune_ ’s fascination with them, so Chanyeol opens the net bag and rolls down the opening so Junmyeon can see them more clearly. They were of different colors—mostly clear with an s-shaped green streak inside of them. Some were emerald in color, some in dark blue. Quite a few had scratches here and there—battle scars from countless games.

“Go on,” Chanyeol encourages. “You can touch them.”

Junmyeon’s hand gently brushes over the marbles. They feel smooth under his fingers, and slightly cold to the touch. “They’re so pretty,” he breathes.

“Here, let me show you something cool.” Chanyeol puts the net bag down on the grass beside his leg, and he picks up two of the larger blue marbles. He hands one to Junmyeon. “Hold it up towards the light, and then slowly bring it towards your eye.”

The singer does it first to demonstrate, and the fox spirit watches with rapt attention. Junmyeon takes the other marble hesitantly and does the same.

“See that little spot of light inside the marble?” Chanyeol coaches. “Focus on that as you bring it closer to your eye.”

The fox spirit nods in acknowledgement.

“Chanyeol!” he soon gasps. “There are bubbles inside! How did they get there? It’s like—Oh, it’s so blue! They almost look like a splash of stars…”

Chanyeol grins in satisfaction. “Pretty cool, huh? When I was a kid, I thought the marbles had little oceans inside them, like their own world compressed into a glass ball, you know? I never got tired of them.”

The fox spirit nods, and his tails swish enthusiastically behind him. “I see how this would be an entertaining toy, I suppose you and your friends sat together like this and stared into these… _marbles_ all afternoon?”

Chanyeol outright laughs at the idea. “You are so cute,” he groans. “To answer your question, no. We didn’t sit around looking into marbles. What kids usually did was to spread some on the ground as targets. And then you’d get down on your knees and use a marble of your own to try and hit them.”

Junmyeon blinks and tilts his head, obviously clueless about what Chanyeol meant. Surely nothing was more enjoyable than feasting one’s eyes with the pretty sight inside of the marbles?

The singer takes note of the fox spirit’s reaction and quickly lines up two small marbles on the ground. “You flick your marble with your finger like this.” He flicks the marble, and it bounces off the other one. “If you successfully hit the target like that, then you win and you get that marble as a prize. If you don’t hit it, then you pay with one of your marbles.”

“O-oh… I suppose that is an amusing activity as well,” Junmyeon says politely. He brings up his blue marble to his eye again, his obviously uninterested in the game.

Chanyeol can only shake his head at how taken the _kitsune_ was with it.

“Ah, and speaking of games.” The blond reaches back into the box. “I’m sure I had that somewhere in here.”

Junmyeon puts the marble down and watches as the singer pulls out a rectangular box from the pile. “What’s that?” he asks.

“This, my friend,” he announces with a grin. “Is called _Snakes and Ladders_.”

“Oh no, you bad girl!” Junmyeon scolds at the board. “You shouldn’t break your dolls like that.”

With a regretful sigh, he moves his piece back to Square eleven.

Chanyeol inwardly cheers. He himself had been ahead in the game, until he threw a bad roll and landed on square 87—the one with the longest snake—and had to go back to square 24.

Such a simple game proved to be very difficult to explain to the _kitsune_. As a child, Chanyeol hadn’t been taught about the how’s and the why’s, he’d only played following the simple mechanics of one, roll the die; two, move your piece according to the number you roll; three, if you land on a snakehead, you need to follow the snake back down until you reach the tail. But if you land on a ladder, then you follow it upwards. The person who reaches Square 100 wins the game.

 _But why_ , Junmyeon had asked.

There are pictures of various children on the board, all doing some sort of action. A quick look at them and Chanyeol infers the game to be one of a cause-and-effect thing. “If the kid is doing something good, they are rewarded. That’s what the ladder is for, see? It lets you win. But if you land on a square where a child is doing something wrong, then snake is like a punishment and you go back for a number of squares. Like this boy,” the singer points to Square 47. “He’s hitting the pig, which is bad, so we follow the snake down to where his grandfather is punishing him for it.”

“But it’s not my fault they’re being naughty,” Junmyeon had pouted, once again rousing a chortle from the blond.

“I know, but it’s a game of luck, see? It all depends on how lucky you are at rolling the dice.”

Chanyeol guessed that it was a way of telling kids about good and bad deeds. He had told Junmyeon so, which seemed to placate him.

“I suppose it’s a useful game then,” he concedes. “Human games can be quite odd…”

For all that discussion though, they both cannot decipher how some of the pictures were bad and some were good. Square 1, for example, showed a girl holding something (was it a bouquet of flowers? Neither of them could tell) It was apparently a good deed, and the ladder goes up to Square 38, where the same girl is now for some reason kneeling beside a teddy bear. 

Trying to interpret each picture proved to be exhausting for both of them, and they abandon the logic of it and just played casually. For a while, all that could be heard were groans and cheers, punctuated by laughter in between.

Chanyeol wins the first game, but Junmyeon quickly calls for another round. The _kitsune_ wins the next, and the rest of the afternoon melts away with them trying to get more wins than the other.

It is Junmyeon’s turn now, and all he needs now is a roll of 4 to win the game. He grips the die in his hand and, after a moment of shaking it in his palm, he softly tosses it.

 _Four!_ he wills the die, and a spark of magic tilts the it to show the four-dotted side.

Junmyeon gasps, and Chanyeol groans in defeat.

The fox spirit’s stomach drops.

“Oh no,” he whispers, and covers his face with his hands in shame. “I’m so sorry!”

“Hm?” Chanyeol glances up at his friend. “Why are you saying sorry now, mister, you weren’t so repentant when you beat me the other seven times.” He ends it with a laugh, but Junmyeon only seems to curl in further into himself.

“I—I cheated!” the _kitsune_ confesses from under his hands, clearly agitated. “Just now, I made it roll a 4. I didn’t mean to, I—I just wanted to win and I accidentally used magic!”

“Wha—you can do that?” the singer asks incredulously.

Junmyeon peeks at him from between his fingers. Chanyeol didn’t seem mad, to his relief.

The fox spirit nods timidly.

“Dude, seriously?” Chanyeol exclaims. “That’s awesome! I mean, yeah, cheating isn’t cool and all. You didn’t mean to do it though, right? So it’s fine. But more importantly Junmyeon.” He pries the fox spirit’s hands from his face, compelling the other to look into his eyes which were gleaming with excitement. “You have magic?”

Junmyeon nods, slightly confused at the turn of events. But Chanyeol’s hands were warm on his fingers. “All _kitsune_ have magic…”

He flinches at the loud, incredulous laugh from the blond.

“Oh my god, this is too much,” the singer continues to laugh. “Sehun would be so _green_ with envy. Junmyeon, why are you so cool? Tell me, what can you do with your magic, aside from enslaving dice?”

The fox spirit takes back his hands from Chanyeol’s grip. He subtly touches his arms, to check his own temperature. The marbles had been certainly cold, but Junmyeon didn’t think his skin was that cold to the touch. Maybe Chanyeol meant something else whenever he said ‘cool’?

“W-well, I can heal animals to some extent,” Junmyeon answers hesitantly. “I can help plants grow, too, if they need it. If the land is too dry, I can call for water from underneath the ground. Most of my magic is intended to help farmers, see? But… but I can also do other things like obscure myself so I cannot be seen, or alter my appearance…”

Chanyeol listens with unblinking eyes, head nodding furiously with each sentence. “I like the others, but invisibility? Dude, that’s like, the best superpower out there! And I think I’ve heard of _gumiho_ being able to transform as well? My grandmother used to tell me stories of how _gumiho_ would turn themselves into beautiful women to lure guys into forests so they could eat their liver.”

The fox spirit positively pales. “That is horrible.”

“It is! That’s why I’m glad you’re not a _gumiho_ ,” the blond admits with an easy laugh. “Have you ever tried turning yourself into someone else, though?”

“Sometimes… my brother Baekhyun and I would make ourselves look human whenever we went to visit the human village. It was not that much of a transformation… we just made our tails and ears disappear and change our clothes to look like those of the villagers.”

Chanyeol’s eyes gleamed expectantly. “Show me! Please?”

The fox spirit tries to disagree, it takes a lot of energy for him to do that kind of magic these days. But his friend looked so expectant, and that half pout on Chanyeol’s lips effectively dissolved what was left of Junmyeon’s hesitation.

“A-alright…”

Junmyeon scoots back a little, and then closes his eyes in concentration. Chanyeol watches as the fox spirit’s large tails shimmer and disappear into nothingness. The fuzzy ears do the same, and a pair of human ears peek out from underneath the turquoise hair.

“Whoa…” the human breathes.

Junmyeon opens his eyes and the purses his lips at Chanyeol. “I do not know what to transform my robes into, I haven’t been outside the forest for a while now. Do you mind if I copied your clothing?”

The singer looks down at his large, dark sweatshirt and torn jeans. “Um, sure?”

The _kitsune_ closes his eyes again, forming the picture of the pieces of clothing in his head. He’s not really sure if it’s working, but Chanyeol’s delighted laughter assure him he’s doing all right.

Junmyeon opens his eyes. On his body were exact copies of his human friend’s clothes—too exact, it seemed. He lifts his arms and sees that his fingers do not even reach the opening of the sleeves, with a good six inches of cloth hanging empty. The pants, too, were too large for him. He wiggles his toes to make sure they’re still there, he couldn’t see them from all the excess folds of denim.

The fox spirit’s mouth curls down in a displeased pout. He was clearly not used to doing this anymore.

Chanyeol on the other hand, was frozen in shock, mouth hanging open at the sight before him. Junmyeon looked so handsome, even if (or was it especially because?) the clothes were too big on his slight frame. He was positively drowning in them, and Chanyeol couldn’t help but notice the milky white skin peeking out from the torn parts of the jeans. Not that he was deliberately raking his eyes over them, no. It was just…and accidental discovery… worth taking note of.

It was like how people who always wore suits look exceptionally striking in casual wear—the sweatshirt and jeans on Junmyeon appeared foreign on him, but it gave him such an appealing touch. And knowing that it was _Chanyeol’s_ clothes, too… he gulps down the nervous flutter that arises from his stomach.

He can only watch as the fox spirit flailed around, trying to make his short limbs appear from the ends of the clothes, with little success. Chanyeol could barely restrain himself from reaching over and pinching Junmyeon’s cheeks—he was _that_ adorable.

“Ah, this is too cumbersome,” Junmyeon huffs. And with a _pop_ , the modern clothes disappear and he is back to being the usual _kitsune_.

Chanyeol whines in disappointment before he can stop himself. “But you looked so cute!”

An embarrassed flush appears on Junmyeon’s cheeks. “No, I didn’t. I couldn’t even make the clothes fit me.”

“Aw, don’t be like that, you did great!”

The fox spirit tries to come up with an argument, but a glance at their surroundings makes him jump up from the ground. “Oh dear, it is almost dark!”

Chanyeol looks around him and is shocked when he sees the orange sky, rapidly darkening by the minute. Where did time go? He hadn’t expected to be out this late. He stands up from the ground, dusting himself off in the process. “I had too much fun and lost track of time,” he says sheepishly. “It looks like I have to get going now.”

Junmyeon nods.

The singer points to the box. “Take care of the box in the meantime, will you? I don’t wanna have to lug it back.”

“Of course,” the fox spirit agrees easily. “It is the least I can do, after all the fun you let me have today.” His arms curl protectively over the box.

Chanyeol cannot help himself, he reaches over and pats Junmyeon on the head.

The _kitsune’s_ eyes flutter shut, his lips curling up into a blissful smile as he leans into the singer’s hand.

“I’ll come back tomorrow, okay?” Chanyeol tells him.

If it were some other human, Junmyeon would have just taken the statement as a goodbye. But this was Chanyeol. The first human to ever come back for him. “I’ll wait for you here,” he hums.

The hand on his hair disappears, and when Junmyeon opens his eyes the human was already walking away. Chanyeol turns back after a few steps.

“Junmyeon,” he says. “You can have the marbles, but don’t look at the box by yourself. I’ll show everything to you and we’ll play them all together, okay?”

The fox spirit’s eyes widens, and he palms the blue marble, warmed from not having left his lap ever since. He also glances down at the small bag of the remaining ones, glimmering softly on the ground. Surely…surely Chanyeol did not really mean to give him all of these?

“But--!” Junmyeon calls after the human. “Are you sure?”

“You like them a lot, much more than I do. Keep them.”

Later, when the human is out of sight, Junmyeon makes sure to pocket the marbles first. He grips both sides of the box. He moves to get up from the ground, but a sudden wave of weakness pulls him back down.

_Oh._

He really shouldn’t have used that much magic in a day. He remembers Chanyeol’s amusement, however, and decides he doesn’t regret it.

He tries again, and this time succeeds in getting up. His knees wobble, and it felt like his legs were waterlogged. He purses his lips in concentration. He can’t fall and damage Chanyeol’s things now, can he?

He makes his way home, the usual short trip leaving him breathless. He gently places Chanyeol’s box by the door, safely tucked by the corner. He decides he can’t be bothered with preparing for a meal now. His eyelids felt heavy, his body crying for a night of lengthy sleep.

He ambles toward his closet, taking out his futon and covers. He remembers something, and he slides the door to the _engawa_ open. Carefully, he takes out the marbles. He lines them up on the door rail on the floor, where they can catch the light from the moon once night comes.

He pulls his futon so it’s right by the door, his head directly beside the line of the glass balls. He finally lets himself collapse on his bed, automatically lying on his side so he can admire his new playthings. They look as pretty as ever, even without much light to make them glimmer now. Junmyeon does not lament it, he’s sure they’ll look magical in the morning.

He brings out the larger blue marble, his favorite one.

_Mother, Father, Baekhyun… are you watching?_

His fingers curl over the smooth ball and he hugs it to his chest.

_I think I have a friend now…_

The tendrils of sleep finally claim him, his heart brimming with pleasure as his eyes flutter shut and his mouth curve into a tender smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/suhosfabtwin)  
> I also have a [ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/amyeonhaseyo) if you wanna buy me coffee :)
> 
> Thank you for reading! I live off of comments, please feed me :’(
> 
>   
> 27 June 2020  
> Ok I gotta be honest with you guys, I have nothing written for ch 5 yet T.T idk why. I've been trying to write something but I'm just not inspired at the moment :(  
> I also joined a fic fest, and the deadline for that is coming up so I'll have to prioritize that one first. Sorry! Thank you for reading and see you on the next update. Much love ~


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